she ran out to speak to
him, and eagerly begged that she might teach him to read.

The boy, surprised at the suddenness and the character of such an offer,
blushed, thanked the little lady, and declined, then hesitated,
reflected, and then, half reluctantly, half gratefully, consented.

Cora was delighted, and frankly expressed her joy.

"Oh, Regulas, I am so glad! Now every afternoon when I have done my
lessons--I am in Comly's first speller, Peter Parley's first book of
history, and first book of geography, and I am as far as short division
in arithmetic, and round hand in the copy book--so as soon as I get
through with my lessons, and you get through with your work, you come to
this back porch, where I play, and I will bring my old primer and white
slate, and I will teach you. If you get here before I do, you wait for
me. I will never be long away. If I get here before you, I will wait for
you," she concluded.

The Iron King, Mr. Fabian, or Mr. Clarence, passing out of the back door
for an afternoon stroll in the grounds, would see the little lady seated
in one of the large Quaker chairs, her feet dangling over its edge, busy
with her doll's dresses, and furtively watching her pupil, who, seated
before her on one of the long piazza benches, would be poring over his
primer or his slate.

As time went on every one began to wonder at the earnestness and
constancy of this childish friendship.

So the lessons went on through all the spring and summer and early
autumn of that year.

Before the leaves had fallen Regulas had learned all she could teach
him.

Then their parting came about naturally, inevitably. When the weather
grew cold, the lessons could no longer be given out on the exposed
piazza, and the little teacher could not be permitted to bring her rough
and ragged pupil into the house.

Cora begged of her kind Uncle Clarence some of his old school books,
which she knew to be among the rubbish of the garret, which was her own
rainy-day play room in summer, and offered the books to the boy as a
loan from herself, because she dared not offer the lad a gift.

Later, she loaned him a "Boy's Life of Benjamin Franklin." It was that
book, perhaps, that decided the boy's destiny. He read it with avidity,
with enthusiasm. The impression made upon his mind was so deep and
intense that his heart became fired with a fine ambition. He longed to
tread in the steps of Benjamin Franklin--to become a printer, to rise to